Sunday, 28 December 2014

This has been a really great year at the movies. It was a year filled with little indies that could, as well as blockbusters that had brains & heart to match their spectacle. It was such an impressive year in fact, that I couldn't possibly whittle my list down to just ten films.

In a year bursting at the seams with quality cinema, the list of films I didn't get around to seeing far exceeds the list of films I did. I suspect that a number of these yet unseen gems would have landed on the list below, so you'll have to excuse the absence of Birdman, The Strange Colour of Your Body's Tears, The Congress, Child of God, Calvary, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, Boyhood, Nothing Bad Can Happen, Witching and Bitching, Locke, A Field in England, The Raid 2, Under the Skin, Only Lovers Left Alive, The Babadook, Inherent Vice, Predestination, Open Windows and What We Do in the Shadows.

Thursday, 2 October 2014

In 2006 Alex Aja knocked one out of the park with his English language debut, a re-imagining of Wes Craven's The Hills Have Eyes. Equal parts atomic cautionary tale, haunting creepshow and ultra-violent gorefest, it remains for me one of the great modern horror remakes.

Six years later, this time as producer and co-writer of 2012's Maniac, Aja once again reminded us that remakes can sometimes be very worthwhile endeavours. Directed by longtime Aja collaborator Franck Khalfoun (seen here being slaughtered in spectacular fashion in High Tension), Maniac 2012 is a compelling update on William Lustig's thirty-four year old shocker.

However, Elijah Wood's take on Frank Zito is different enough to Joe Spinell's that it serves to make this new film more than just another update for a new generation. The two films stand apart as distinctly different character studies of a very sad, sick man. Wood's performance, as well as some really interesting stylistic changes, elevate Khalfoun's Maniac above many of it's remake brethren, making this a truly worthy companion piece to the original.

I'm not being hyperbolic when I say that Khalfoun's Maniac is for me a near perfect horror movie. Wood's portrayal of Frank is excellent, bringing sympathy to a character who is as vile and repellent as they come. Without that pathos, both versions of Maniac would be little more than exercises in graphic sadism, having no more emotional impact on the viewer than Fulci's New York Ripper (which is a great flick, but for different reasons). Maxime Alexandre's cinematography (he also shot Aja's gorgeous looking early movies) is drenched in grimy, neon-lit atmosphere, thanks to good use of late night cityscapes to create an urban setting that is both alienating and desolate. The central conceit of the movie, that everything is seen from Frank's point of view, is skillfully handled as well, making the whole sordid experience that much more visceral. And speaking of viscera, the gore is absolutely top notch, easily trumping Savini's celebrated work on the original.

Finally, Robin Coudert's throbbing, menacing score is a nostalgic throwback that struck a chord with me on a deeper level than most other '80s tribute scores, especially this collaboration with Chloë Alper that I couldn't get out of my head for weeks after seeing it. I still listen to this track all the time.

Friday, 26 September 2014

Under Tony Abbott's far-right government Islamophobia in Australia seems to be ramping up to unprecedented levels of hysteria, thanks to its racist policies and an ongoing campaign of fear-mongering propaganda. On September 18 a massive "anti-terror" raid, involving no less than 800 heavily armed cops, was mounted across two states. The entire operation resulted in a single man being charged. It mirrors recent events in the US that highlight a disturbing heavy-handedness and over-militarisation of our police forces.

To clarify my position, I'm an atheist but I respect the right to peaceful religious belief and practice. However, as with most reasonable people, I hold all forms of religious zealotry in an equal measure of disdain. But with the kind of xenophobia that Australia is becoming known for, criticism is never restricted to being directed at religious fanaticism alone. It always seems to bleed over into rabid hatred based on little more than cultural and racial differences.

So in the spirit of saying FUCK YOU to white Australian bigotry, and showing some solidarity with our closest neighbours, here's another banging demo from Indonesia, this time from Yogyakarta's Warmouth.

Wednesday, 24 September 2014

Jeremy Saulnier's debut feature Murder Party made an impression on me when I saw it a few years ago. I've still only seen it once, but I remember it as an oddball little indie horror flick with a sharp script, interesting characters and a mischievous anarchic streak. It's exactly the kind of rough around the edges, no-budget first effort that makes you sit up and take notice of a new director as being one to watch.

Cut to seven years later and Saulnier's sophomore feature Blue Ruin. The leap in maturity and quality between the two movies is staggering. It's not just a case of an increase in production values due to a bigger budget, it's obvious that Saulnier has grown as a filmmaker in leaps and bounds. Honestly it feels like there should be a whole filmography dividing these two films (and in a way there is, as he served as DOP on no less than seven features in the interim).

Blue Ruin is my latest foray into a sub-genre that I love, albeit one that I don't really have a name for. Southern thrillers? It's a sub-genre that I can trace back to the Coen's Blood Simple, although I'm sure that movie has its antecedents that I'm not aware of. This year has been a notable one for movies in this vein with Jim Mickle's excellent Cold in July (the first of Mickle's movies that I've really connected with) and David Gordon Green's masterpiece Joe (seriously if you haven't seen Joe, drop what you're doing, and go watch it NOW). Both of those films deserve their own write-ups and I hope to get to that at some point.

The way that Blue Ruin's story unfolds in the first act relies heavily on visual storytelling to introduce you to its central character, Dwight. When we first meet him he's a homeless loner living out of his car, and it takes a while to understand how and why he arrived at this low point. One thing is obvious - his life has stalled, and he seems to be living in a kind of self imposed limbo. Then, out of the blue, something happens that wakes him out of this stupor and gives him purpose again. Something that propels him forward with such powerful determination that he seems unable to stop his forward momentum, even as things begin to spin out of control.

Honestly, that's as far as I want to go with a synopsis, because one of this film's pleasures is in the way that the story is gradually revealed. It's no spoiler to say that Blue Ruin is a revenge flick, as that's touted pretty heavily in the film's marketing, but one of the things that makes it stand out in the genre is that Dwight is no archetypal revenge protagonist/antihero. There's no macho posturing, no ninja-level weapons and martial arts skills, no quipping swagger to this character. This man is damaged, unconfident, introverted and constantly terrified. As such, you can't help but fall in love with and root for the character, especially given the terrible adversity he faces in the course of the story.

Right across the board there's so much to love in Blue Ruin. The actors are all excellent, feeding off of Saulnier's killer script, the standout being Macon Blair whose understated performance as Dwight brings so much to a character who is a man of few words. The film is beautifully shot in rural locations throughout Virginia and just drips with backwoods atmosphere. And finally, the sometimes languid pacing is often punctuated by some really fist-pumping violence, a couple of times resulting in some perfectly executed gore that, in the service of such a genuinely emotional story, has a powerful impact. Highly recommended.

Friday, 19 September 2014

I emailed the guitarist of Oblivionation a while ago, asking for a scan of the lyric sheet to their recent album Language of Violence. He didn't have one on hand so he typed out the lyrics to all ten songs for me and then gave me permission to post them here. That, girls and boys, is how you do it.

As I've already pointed out in previous posts about this Massachusetts juggernaut, Oblivionation have some of the sharpest lyrics of any hardcore band currently going. Intelligent, well informed, penetrating and mean as fuck - these are lyrics that lack ambiguity and get straight to the matter at hand. Case in point, album opener "Language of Violence" is a scathing epitaph for a species that is currently waging no less than forty three wars and armed conflicts upon itself.

You know that feeling that really banging hardcore gives you? When the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, your eyes widen, your pulse increases? It shouldn't just be the music that does that, it should be the words too. Oblivionation get that. Others should take note.

All lyrics by Quinn Dillon (and mucho thanks)

Language Of ViolenceWhen logic failsViolence prevailsThe language of violence we all understandWe decry warAnd still we wage moreThe language of violence is our native tongueAs we evolveOne problem unsolvedThe language of violence is the language of manViolence won't endStill we pretendThat somehow manIs not an animalViolence won't endand still we pretendThat somehow manIs capable of being anything moreNothing can kill instinctWe react we don't thinkNothing can kill instinctYou're part of our evolutionTo make peaceKilling is our solution

Bought and Sold

What does it mean to be free?It's nothing I feelWhen I look aroundIt's nothing I seeWe want to believeThe choices we makeCan't be influencedBy a flat screen tvThe collective unconscious remainsUnaware of the factThat the illusion of choiceIs burned in our brainsBecoming your brandIt then speaks for youThe politics of purchase we don't understandWe can't distinguish our needsFrom what we wantWhat we want is moreWe want what we seeCan't break yourself freeBecause we depend upon adsAs the mother of necessityYou're not a personYou're a targetWhat does it mean to be free?It's nothing I feelAnd I'll never knowBecause I'll never beYou think you're immuneBut you do what you're toldThe compulsion to buyStarts with being sold

You're Not Pro-Union, Just Pro-You

You're not pro-unionYou're just pro-youPrivileged and ignorantLoud mouth hypocritesWho don't like to thinkTalk like you're bleeding red, white and blueBut your motives are pinkJust right wing "commies"With no fucking clueWorking class zerosFor free market heroesYou romance the pastBut Reagan threw the air traffic controllersFlat out on their assYou're not pro-unionYou're just pro-youYou right wing "commies"Just don't have a clueSocialists you blameBut can't see that you're one tooTake from the greedyAnd give to the needyIf the needy means youThen piss on the poorFor demanding moreLike that's not what you doThe goose scorns the ganderWhile watching Fox NewsWhat you call a contractThey call a handoutOne you haven't earnedYour part of a problemThat you can't standBut you still haven't learnedFor you not enough and for others too muchThe loudest voices sound most out of touchSo smarten upAnd till that day comesFuck you

Crawl Or Be CrushedThey prefer we stay where we areUnder the boot of a system that's gone to farBelly to groundFace in the dirtOur voices stifled by mouthfuls of EarthCrawl or be crushedGive up or get outThere's no other choiceHow long do we wait for the last straw to break?How far are we pushed?How much do we take?The spirit of rebellion cannot be touchedOur will to survive means crawl or be crushedCrawl or be crushedNo moreStand upRattle your cageOr lie in a gravePush backOr die a slaveYour voice is a rally callOur voiceUnites us allCrawl or be crushedOur time is now

Gainfully AnnoyedJust keep your head downBlend in, don't cause any wavesIf you don't learn anythingAt least learn your placeDon't askDon't speakDon't thinkAnd you'll do just fineBut know it all fucks just like youTend to get out of lineNod your head up and downIt's our show and you're just some clownWe're not gonna askYou're not gonna tellSo just shut your mouthDon't careSo don't youTell usWhat we should try to doWe don't careSo don't shareYour thoughtsOnly matter to youYou should thank godWe gave you a jobYou're nothing moreThan some replaceable slobSo shut your mouthJust shut your fucking mouthNod your head up and downIt's our show and you're just some clownWith a college degreeWho still hasn't learnedHow to shut his big mouth

Fear Breeds Action

Ignore all your problemsIt's no use to solve themHead in the sandI can't understandYou're just kicking the can down the roadAnd we both knowYou leave it up to othersTo reap what you sowShirking the truthDodging the phoneYou're drowning in fear all aloneStepping over a dead horseThat you refuse to ownCause what you won't seeYou won't believeCause if you won't seeYou don't have to believeHow far do you think you can get?Revising the pastRemoving the parts you regretDenying what you know is truePretend all you want but the day comesWhen life will catch up to you

Salting The Earth

Choking on dustGasping for breathPiles of cinder and ashSift through remainsAnd find nothing leftGive what I getWhat I give is...Get what I giveWhat I get is...NothingLive life as I'm showOr life as I chooseAn option that's hung like a nooseWhat I don't surrenderI still seem to loseGet what I giveWhat I get is...Give what I getWhat I give is...I don't give you shitWith nothing to loseBut something to takeI grab all I canSteal what I can't breakStripped and clear cutStumps rot in the dirtWhat's left has no worthPoint of deathNo chance of rebirthThe fruit off the vineIs now what's salting the Earth

No Singalong

Not here for youIt's not your songNot part of your sceneIt's no singalongWe're just square pegsWho grew some legsNot part of your sceneBut still love Gang GreenWe know that kidsDon't care about a songAbout life after punkIt's no singalongWe're just square pegsWho grew some legsNot playing to peersBut still listen to Poison IdeaNow we're homeownersWith yards and lawnmowersWe "bought in"Whatever that meansAngry but olderSomeone should have told usThe importance of 401ksDivorces and childrenAss aches and taxesAre what retired punks go throughYou may be laughingThinking we're trappedBut the fact isOne day it might be youLaugh it up, it's the truthSome might escape itMost never doYouth won't last foreverIt's sad but trueYou'll get old, sad but true

Poor You

We're not playing violinsBut you think you've earned themNo one has it easyYou're no differentSo don't make it my problemLife isn't fairDoesn't mean it's any less fair to youYou nothing specialAnd it's no one's faultYou can't face up to the factYou're only problem is youEveryone faces up to itThe world doesn't spin just for usPiss and moan about where you're atIf want to point a fingerThen just blame yourselfYou like to play the partBut you're no victim

How Far Is "Gone"?

Frantic and scatteredCan't slow downBrain starts to panicCan't slow...Can't concentrateMy mind starts to raceLike I'm on the huntBut I'm being chasedDeafening noise on a static tvWhat's so clear to youBeats the shit out of meWon't slow...Broken connections The circuit won't workA faulty designDefective since birthAimlessly floatA ship with no sailI don't fail to planBut plans seem to failAll the advice I've heardAs hard as I tryI still haven't learnedTo escape the fire without being burned

Wednesday, 17 September 2014

Here's a tasty two track demo, submitted by some of our friends to the north in Yogyakarta, Indonesia. Cloudburst play scorching metallic hardcore with a strong emphasis on the hxc end of the spectrum, just the way I like it. I've been told that the scene up there is exploding, and if these pissed off young punx are anything to go by, I'd better get up there soon to see for myself.

Friday, 1 August 2014

Makeup fx legend Dick Smith has died.He gave us one of our most terrifying and enduring monsters in Regan/Pazuzu, as well as his groundbreaking and shocking work in dozens of other movies including Scanners, Taxi Driver and Altered States.

Even though he lived to a very respectable 92 years, I'm still saddened by this news. A horror legend is gone.

Sunday, 27 July 2014

Back in 2010 my fifth ever post on the EYE was about the wonderful Vincenzo Natali being attached to direct the long-in-development adaption of J.G. Ballard's High-Rise. To paraphrase myself:

"Our bizarrely evolving relationship with technology and the urban environment is a theme that runs through my favourite Ballard stories (Crash, Concrete Island and High-Rise), and I don't think that the ideas he played with in those novels have dated at all. In fact I think they're more relevant now than when they were written, showing a real prescience to Ballard's vision of where we're headed as a society (it's not optimistic).

It's heartening to know that High-Rise is in the capable hands of an intelligent, independent film-maker. Too many of Philip K. Dick's works have been reduced to dumbed-down action fests, but with first Cronenberg's Crash and now Natali at the helm of High-Rise, Ballard's cinematic legacy will hopefully fare better."

Well, that was over four years ago, the world has moved on and Natali has been off the project for a while now (I'm rooting for him to get his Neuromancer made, a daunting task to say the least). Sometimes things change for the better though, and as much as I love Natali and think he was a good match for High-Rise (there are striking thematic similarities between Ballard's novel and Cube), I think the film has fallen into even more capable hands now.

High-Rise is a distinctly British feeling science fiction novel, and the alienating, sprawling bleakness of Ballard's London has always set it apart from other 1970's dystopias. I suppose it could be transplanted to somewhere like L.A. (with its dehumanising landscape of freeways), but to really do Ballard's novel justice it should be set in the U.K.

With that in mind, the film's current director, Ben Wheatley, is perhaps the perfect choice. Wheatley, whose Down Terrace, Kill List and Sightseers (I have yet to see A Field in England) are all near flawless gems, has a uniquely English vision that seems perfectly suited to tackling '70s era Ballard.

As a filmmaker he seems genuinely interested in exploring the grimy underbelly of modern British society, albeit from some pretty weird perspectives. Whether by accident or not, the three films mentioned above are perfect examples of the social realism of Ken Loach and Mike Leigh spliced onto modern genre cinema. Be it crime, horror or black comedy, Wheatley has so far managed to effortlessly combine "kitchen sink realism" with whatever genre he sees fit.

This time around he's shifting his gaze from the struggles of the working class to that oldest and most British of conflicts: class war. There is no real proletariat living in the luxurious 40 story apartment complex of the novel, but as things start falling apart the residents quickly find themselves divided into lower, middle and upper classes... whether by choice or not. I can't wait to see how Wheatley handles this incendiary material. Will it remain rooted in naturalistic realism like his previous movies, or will it take a more mythical approach like the similarly themed (and fucking brilliant) Snowpiercer? It's also going to be really interesting to see what Wheatley does with a big budget.

Wheatley isn't the only interesting person involved with High-Rise though. The project has been patiently shepherded for over three decades by one of the most interesting producers in the business, Jeremy Thomas. I saw Thomas speak at length a couple of years ago, and he is that rarest of rare commodities among producers: a man who is genuinely passionate about leaving behind a legacy of art. Without him we might not have some of the more challenging movies from the likes of Nicolas Roeg, David Cronenberg, Bernardo Bertolucci, Jonathan Glazer, Wim Wenders, Richard Linklater, Harmony Korine, Takashi Miike and Jim Jarmusch. Seriously check out this guy's filmography, it's incredible. As far as Ballard is concerned, he was behind Cronenberg's Crash, and back in the '70s almost brought High-Rise to the big screen under the direction of Nicolas Roeg.

With a great cast that includes Tom Hiddleston, Elisabeth Moss and Jeremy Irons, High-Rise is set to blow minds when it finally hits next year. Filming began earlier this month in Belfast, Northern Ireland.

Saturday, 26 July 2014

He's a 16yo dingo X kelpie who came into my life 10 years ago (along with his owner, my long-suffering and awesome girlfriend Bowie). Rocky's passions include: farting, trying to hump tiny pugs while their owners look on in horror, peanuts, gorging on fresh possum entrails and blankly staring off into space like the dog from The Thing.

The other one in the photo is Rocky's servant, AKA me.

Aaron, of the consistently amazing DEATH RATTLE blog, recently asked me 13 questions to which I happily replied. Have a read HERE

Wednesday, 23 July 2014

It seems like forever ago that Oblivionation unleashed that nuclear bomb of a demo on the world. It's been a long time coming (hassles with inept pressing plants not helping), but their first album - Language of Violence - is finally out. Of course it was worth the wait. Ten tracks of stripped back, raging Massachusetts hardcore in the spirit of Out Cold (meaning that like Out Cold before them, these guys are committed to doing it their way - ignoring trends and seemingly not giving a fuck if that relegates them to the fringes of the scene*). Hardcore should always be challenging, raw, urgent and personal. It's so disappointing when you can tell it's being faked. Oblivionation don't fake it.

The boys have put the album up for eight dollar digital download right here. You can also get their ripping Cult of Culture EP for a mere €1.50 from Hardware records' bandcamp page here.

Well, what are you waiting for punk? Have at it!*to quote Barry Henssler - "scene as in still life, scene as in soap opera".

Sunday, 6 July 2014

Brisbane's Last Chaos play mean-as-fuck, primitive hardcore dripping with reverbed out vocals that seethe menacingly under an absolutely scorching guitar attack. Heard live, those guitars sound like a giant buzz saw revved up to the point of shattering into a wall of hot shrapnel. All of which is headed straight at your tortured ear holes.

A couple of weeks ago, these Queenslanders killed it here in Sydney at the above pictured show with the equally amazing Canine and Thorax. Honestly don't know if I'll see a better one this year (although the Adolescents kind of blew my mind a couple of nights ago). Here's their demo, 7" and split with Vaarallinen at

Wednesday, 2 July 2014

"I had a very disturbing dream last night. In this dream I found myself making love to a strange man. Only I'm having trouble you see, because he's old... and dying... and he smells bad, and I find him repulsive. But then he tells me that everything is erotic, that everything is sexual. You know what I mean? He tells me that even old flesh is erotic flesh. That disease is the love of two alien kinds of creatures for each other. That even dying is an act of eroticism. That talking is sexual. That breathing is sexual. That even to physically exist is sexual. And I believe him, and we make love beautifully."

Oh. You're back. That's a shame. You have my sympathy... but let's face facts, you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into when you voluntarily exposed yourself to the Cronenberg Signal. You thought the tumor had gone away? That you were in remission? Poor, naive fool. I'm afraid that your neoplasm has metastasized again. No, not to other organs. It's too late to salvage any of that. Way too late. Your Flesh was corrupted long ago, decayed beyond repair. Beyond recognition. No, I'm afraid the disease is done with your Flesh, and the way that it's metastasizing now is more destructive than ever.

You see, it appears to have spread to your thoughts now.

The trick is not to think of it as dying. Just try to think of it as a kind of transformation. I'm sorry, what was that? Will it hurt? Oh, yes. Yes I'm afraid it will.

My first Dispatch in four years can mean only one thing. Some new celluloid Flesh from David Cronenberg. This short, entitled The Nest and featuring the auteur himself as a deranged surgeon, was created as a tie-in to his new novel Consumed, and it's classic body horror era Cronenberg.

All the elements are present: corrupted science, sexual parasites, coldly detached eroticism, insects and disease. A cool little throwback to the director's horror roots as we await the release of his next feature, Maps to the Stars.

Tuesday, 1 July 2014

There's been a link on my blogroll for a few years now called Strange Shapes, and it just so happens to be the most exceptional Alien blog on the web. If you're an Alien fan and you haven't discovered it yet you need to do yourself a favour and go there now.

Strange Shapes is owned and written by one Valaquen, a Scottish Alien fanatic and Xenomorph scholar par excellence. This guy's knowledge of the Alien universe, both in front of and behind the camera, is vast and frankly, a little intimidating. I've been in love with Ridley Scott's movie for 35 years now, but reading Strange Shapes can make me feel like a lightweight.

So whilst scrolling through Bloody Disgusting today I was blown away to find a link to a behind the scenes gallery "curated" by Valaquen. And fuck me, what a gallery it is. I'm always on the lookout for rare Alien pics that I haven't seen before, and this gallery is a goldmine.

Of the 245 images he's posted there must be at least 50 that I've either never seen before or haven't seen for years. Some of the coolest are below, but you should really check out the whole gallery here.

killer promo shot of the Nostromo crew

a nice look at Giger's handywork

HRG with his designs for Jodorowsky's unrealised Dune

on the Space Jockey set

working on the Jockey

with Dan O'Bannon

O'Bannon with Chris Foss

and on the Nostromo's bridge

closeup of the unused full sized prop for Kane's burial shroud

John Hurt

Veronica Cartwright

together on the bridge

Harry Dean Stanton looking cool

and Yaphet Kotto looking even cooler

Kotto contemplating Parker's fate

Parker and Lambert dead

this appears to be an effects test for Parker's gory demise

Sigourney Weaver looking badass and beautiful during a promo shoot

and posing with a Jones that looks suspiciously unlike the Jones seen in the movie

Weaver and Stanton

the Narcissus on a workbench with raided model kits in the background

an amazing look at the underside of the Nostromo coming in to land on LV-426 that was rejected by Ridley Scott. I wish they'd stuck with this one because the final effect seen in the movie is by far the weakest in the film

the Nostromo model on the planetoid set

another angle

and finally, a good look at the detail and texture of the derelict model